


HOSTage.0

by Atakiri



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atakiri/pseuds/Atakiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Yami Bakura realizes he’s losing his latest Shadow Game against Yami Yugi, Yami Bakura plays dirty and tries to steal the puzzle by force. But when instead the Pharaoh’s soul and his own trade items, Yami might just be in his greatest danger yet…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: An Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [HOSTage](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/18345) by Atakiri Mizuyuki (me). 



> A long time ago, when I was even more of an idiot than I am now, but less of a decent writer, I started writing a Yu-Gi-Oh! fan-fiction, with a concept I was pretty fond of, though I daresay it’s not terribly creative or original. Now that I’m getting really into Yu-Gi-Oh! again (obsessive phase HOOOOO~), I re-read it, decided I rather liked it, and have decided to revamp it and republish it! (Pretend to be excited.) So here it is. Enjoy… hopefully?
> 
> And as ever, IT’S TIME TO D-D-D-D-DDDDUEL!

PROLOGUE -_-_- An Idea

Yami Bakura leaned against the wall of the alley, glancing down at his fingernails. It was cold, and mist was rising from the ground, but he didn’t feel it. He was too pissed off to notice some environmental inconvenience.

The _roar_ of a motorcycle echoed through the alleyway.

“About damn time,” he spat, pushing himself off of the wall. A shape appeared out of the mist, quickly growing larger and more defined. Not that Yami Bakura had any doubts about who the person was; who else would be riding a motorcycle at one-thirty in the morning through the narrow alleyways of the black heart of Domino City?

“You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago,” he said angrily as Marik stopped beside him and took off his helmet. Marik scowled at him and put the kick-stand of the motorcycle down. Yami Bakura noticed the green paint job and arched an eyebrow. “How many of these things do you have?”

“As many as I want,” Marik replied without missing a beat. He leaned against the motorcycle and crossed his arms, the Millennium Rod glimmering at his side. Yami Bakura couldn’t help but glance at it—and the Egyptian hand gripping it tightly enough to break the skin. “So? What news on Yugi Mutou?” Yami Bakura scowled and folded his own arms.

“What do you expect me to say? That he’s suddenly fallen over dead and he left the Millennium Puzzle to you in his will?”

“That’d be terrific.” Yami Bakura scowled.

“He _sleeps_ with the bloody thing on,” he replied, looking away from the arrogant smirk on Marik’s face.

“So you mean you don’t have it,” Marik said, the slightest hint of condescension in his voice. Yami Bakura ground his teeth together but forced himself to cool off before saying anything.

“It means that I’d have to sleep with Yugi Mutou to get it while he can’t fight back,” he spat. Marik’s smirk pissed him off—a lot. He chose to ignore Marik for Marik’s own good. He would _kill_ that pest the moment he had his Millennium Rod. He’d swear it on Zorc’s name—he _would_ kill that little bastard.

“Then what do you propose you do about it?” Marik asked, tightening his arms across his chest.

_Not now, I can’t kill him now._

_But there are no witnesses…_

“ _I_ intend to bide my time, just as I _have_ been doing—” he started.

“And look how far _that’s_ gotten you,” Marik pointed out. Next thing Yami Bakura knew he had his hand twisted in the collar of Marik’s shirt and the Egyptian was hanging a couple inches off the ground.

“ _I_ was doing _fine_ before _you_ decided to show your ugly fake-tanned face and screw with Yugi’s head!” he shouted. Marik wasn’t smirking now—he wasn’t scared, but he was certainly not pleased. “Now _you’re_ here with your little army of Rare Hunters and you’ve scared the little bastard to the point where he’s more Yami than Yugi! How the hell am I supposed to do anything when he’s been pushed into a corner and is fighting like it?!” He dropped Marik, who managed to catch himself neatly on his feet, bending his knees only slightly to take the force. “I’ll get it, just watch. And with the puzzle Yugi will be powerless, and you’ll get your damn little god card and I’ll get both the puzzle and the rod.” He stared pointedly at the Millennium Rod, not bothering to try and hide his greed at all this time. Marik held it out, his fist clamped tightly around it.

”You want this?” he asked, his voice angry. Apparently he didn’t like being picked up by the collar of his shirt. “Then you’ll do as I damn well say, won’t you? The more of a threat I am, the more he’ll need his friends. Don’t just hide your host away—he’s more than a temporary suit, he’s your greatest asset. Learn about him—and after a while, you can finally destroy the boy’s soul completely and act well enough that Yugi won’t know he’s gone until long after you’ve put the puzzle around your own neck.” 

Yami Bakura scowled at him. But he couldn’t deny the truth of what he’d said. He didn’t allow his host out much; he had a body again, and he was damn well going to use it. And as such, he didn’t like to be around Yugi too often—the less Yugi thought of him, the less likely he was to realize that Yami Bakura had returned, the better for his plans. But that little Egyptian bastard had a good point—Yugi was soft in the truest sense. If Yami Bakura put his host in danger, Yugi would panic. He could easily force Yugi to do anything he wanted, that way. Except for one big problem.

The Pharaoh.

It might have been easy to break the control of the stunted kid with the hair taller than he was, but the Pharaoh was something else entirely. His calm couldn’t be stolen—you couldn’t steal what wasn’t there. And as a thief he’d know. The Pharaoh didn’t wear his cool like a mask like most people; it was in his very _skin_ , like Yugi wore his innocence and Yami Bakura wore his hatred.

Marik’s skin was too poorly sprayed to see anything.

Yami Bakura had fallen against the wall again, but now he pushed himself off with a violence, registering but ignoring how Marik’s eyes narrowed, though the rest of him didn’t move, as if he was preparing himself for Yami Bakura to attack. It wasn’t entirely as unlikely as Marik might have thought—Yami Bakura wouldn’t have to bother with Yugi _or_ that damned Pharaoh if he just killed Marik and took the rod. But Marik had his uses, and he supposed for the time being he would try to use him.

Besides, Marik’s death would give Yugi hope, and why would he bother with that?

“Fine,” he said, although he was well aware nothing had really been determined. “Why don’t you return to that cancer-causer you call a tanning booth and make yourself a _little_ darker? After all, right now you only look like someone left you in the oven a _little_ over-long.” He arched an eyebrow, encouraging Marik to get his point quickly. 

He turned on his heel and walked towards the end of the alley, feeling the Millennium Ring’s weight against his chest. It wanted more than just itself, and he would be happy to deliver as soon as he could.

Against his motorcycle Marik scowled in disgust. He grabbed his helmet and shoved it on, strapping it in place. He would _kill_ that British prick as soon as he had the God Cards. Upon the name of the new pharaoh—himself—he would. 

He slammed his foot violently against the kickstand and roared out of the alleyway.

Somewhere many miles away, Yugi slept peacefully in his bed, a concerned shadow perched on the edge of the mattress, the figure’s face set with worry.


	2. Chapter 1: Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but a major overhaul was going to fix the scene with Bakura when they were at school, so I had no choice but to make it a little less awful, as I don’t want to be rewriting huge chunks of a fan-fiction I’m doing just for fun. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and my apologies for that scene! ;;

CHAPTER 1  -_-_-   Insomnia

Yugi brushed his teeth and tried not to drift off while the Pharaoh lectured him about staying safe, avoiding enemies, and not forgetting that he _was_ famous.  “Stay away from mobs, avoid girls that breathe too deeply, if they say they’re your biggest fan ask for their name so you could file a restraining order later”, etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseam.  Yugi didn’t really see the point of it—he wasn’t _that_ much of a celebrity.  He hadn’t even qualified as a finalist for the Battle City tournament yet, and it seemed like he might not be able to, either.  Sure, he had somewhat of a reputation—the kid that beat Kaiba, the kid that beat Pegasus.  He knew the pools for him as a favorite were strong—almost as strong as Kaiba’s.  Not that he kept track of the betting pools.  Damn Joey.  

But this was so much more than a game, those guys had no idea—his friends were constantly in danger, and even his very soul was put on the line, over and over and over.  There was maniac after maniac demanding Shadow Games, and nothing Yugi could do about it.  Turn down a duel?  Not possible—not while he had the Millennium Puzzle, and not while he held onto an Egyptian God Card.  His opponents always made sure the consequences of refusing were too high to do so.  And no one could help him, because he didn’t want to hurt them.  Not Joey, not Tea, not Tristan, not even Seto “His Highness” Kaiba.   Pffft, Seto.  Running some kind of evil tournament.  Did he have any idea what his creation had turned into?  He probably didn’t mean to kill anyone.  … Probably.  God knew the Kaiba wouldn’t worry too much if Yugi wound up in the obituaries after suffering from a strange coma after a “harmless” card game…

He really _had_ to tell his friends to keep him on life support, for the love of god keep him on life support, if he ever fell into a “coma”—such as the kind that happened when one’s soul was sent to the Shadow Realm.

He couldn’t quite suppress a shudder, and he glanced up in the mirror where the spectral illusion of the Pharaoh stood behind him, his arms crossed and his face set in a frown.  He wasn’t mad at Yugi, just… not content.  Yugi knew why—Yugi hadn’t bothered trying to shield his thoughts, which he could do if he thought about it, and so the Pharaoh, Yami, had heard these just fine.  And the Pharaoh knew exactly why Yugi was thinking them.

Yugi was afraid.  Still afraid.  

_What if the god cards get stolen?  What if I lose my next duel?  People won’t leave me alone, what do I do?  I have so much homework backlogged because of the tournament, I’m going to drown.  What if I get challenged to another Shadow Game and I lose this time?   Bakura’s been gone for a week, is he okay?  What’s going to happen to my friends?  Who will Marik hurt next time?_

“I’m sorry,” he admitted finally, sighing.  He put his fists against the sink and leaned over it, his eyes closed and his toothbrush still gripped in his hand.  He couldn’t feel the Pharaoh do it, but he could tell Yami’d put a hand on his physical counterpart’s shoulder.

_It’s alright,_ he promised Yugi.  He sounded genuine, but that wasn’t anything unusual—the Pharaoh didn’t lie about anything, at least as far as Yugi knew.  Or maybe he did—Yugi wasn’t really sure he wanted to know if the Pharaoh did or not.  He sighed again.

“I’m frightened,” he admitted.  The Pharaoh already knew that—he would be able to feel it through their connection like the vibrating of wires.  But it helped to say it aloud.  He could tell the Pharaoh nodded.  “I don’t want to lose any of you guys; these stakes are high.  _Too_ high.  If I didn’t have your fate and the fate of the world on my shoulders, I might just drop card games altogether.”

_No you wouldn’t_.  It wasn’t accusing, it was just the truth.  The Pharaoh was never rude or sarcastic to him; he simply called things as he saw them.  And the Pharaoh knew Yugi too well to believe for an instant that his latest statement could hold any validity. _You live for games, Yugi.  Your desire to play them flows through your veins more thickly than blood.  … Tell me, what’s the chemical formula of glucose?_

“Um…” Yugi started, knowing that he should remember it.  Didn’t he have a biology test coming up later that day?

_What is the attack, defense, type, and attribute of Silent Magician Lv 4?_

“One-thousand Attack, One-thousand Defense, Light, Spellcaster,” he answered in an instant, unable to feel just a bit proud that he could answer so quickly.  The Pharaoh nodded to himself.

_And that monster isn’t even in your deck,_ he noted.  The triumphant smile slipped from Yugi’s face and he sighed, getting the point.  

“I know,” he said helplessly.  “I know.  I just… I feel so useless!  I can’t do anything to protect all of you, and I even need to rely on _you_ for my _own_ safety!  I can’t do anything!  Joey can fight in a real fight if he needs to; Tea’s mind is so strong and sure, and Tristan’s so confident!  But what can I do?  Memorize some numbers on cards.  Can I really make a future out of that? I know some people can, and have, but… I’m not like them.  I don’t have what it takes.”  He leaned against the sink despondently, not really looking at anything.  He could tell the Pharaoh was not pleased.

_Yugi!_ he snapped, genuinely angry.  Yugi hunched his shoulders.  _Don’t say that!  You aren’t useless—there’s a_ lot _you can do!  Your happiness and your very soul brought all of us together to become the friends we are now!  Your optimism and encouragement not only_ do _but_ have _brought all of us back from the brink in times of trouble!  When an opponent or a particularly difficult situation has me shaken up, it’s always been_ your _support and friendship that has given me the courage and strength to pull through!  And you’re an incredible duelist in your own right, as well!  Do not put down your own skills!_

Yugi didn’t say anything for a moment, then he sighed heavily.

“Then I’m doomed to life as a support character?” 

The Pharaoh frowned audibly.

_Yugi, why are you acting like this?  This isn’t like you—are you sick?_   Yugi put a hand over his face and shook his head.

_It isn’t fair of me to be scaring the Pharaoh like this,_ he thought in the deepest part of his mind, a part he knew the Pharaoh couldn’t reach.  _I don’t have any right to let my worry change who I am; my friends are strong for me, and I need to be strong for them.  I know I have their support, and I have to stop squandering that by letting my hopelessness get the best of me!_   He drew his hand into a fist and smiled apologetically into the mirror.  

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping, which you know about,” he admitted, “and I guess it has me feeling more down than usual.  Things just seem to be getting so out of hand lately.  But I won’t let it beat me!  I’ll keep going no matter what!”

The Pharaoh smiled, and even though it was a slight expression, it still filled Yugi with strength.

_I’m glad_ , was all the Pharaoh said.  Yugi’s smile warmed.

“You’re right; I really shouldn’t be worrying so much.  There isn’t much I can do, but what I can, I should.  Everyone has their problems—but when we all join together, we become unstoppable!”  The Pharaoh nodded to himself.

_Now_ that _sounds like my partner_.  He had been leaning against the reflection of the counter, but now he straightened and stuck his hands in his pockets.  Even though he was just a sourceless reflection in the mirror, the Millennium Puzzle around his neck still caught the light.  _Glucose is C_ _ 6_ _H_ _ 12_ _O_ _ 6_ _by the way._  

Yugi opened his mouth to say something else.

“Yugi!  Are you on the phone at this hour?  You need to eat or you’ll be late for school!” his grandfather called.  Yugi panicked and threw his toothbrush into the sink before starting to pull on his uniform.

  *           *          *



“Summon Skull!  Attack his Lifepoints directly!” Yugi shouted, pointing and shouting even if though his duel disk was safely tucked away in his backpack.  Joey let out a loud groan and tilted back in his chair, putting a hand over his face.

“That stupid Needle Wall!” he shouted in dismay.  “My dice never roll the right number!  Ah jeez…”  He looked at Yugi and the enormous smile on his face between his fingers.  Joey dropped his hand and gave his friend a sort of irritated smile.

“You win again, Yug,” he said, waving his hand dismissively over the card field the two had made on their desks.  Yugi had won by a landslide, not that anyone watching was surprised.  Yugi didn’t usually lose; in fact, none of them could remember the last time he had lost.  

Yugi’s smile widened and he started gathering his cards.

“I guess,” he admitted, “but I think we both won—that was a really fun game, Joey!  And tight, too!  I’m sure I felt my heart stop for a couple of seconds!”  Joey snorted.

“Whaddya mean?  Ya won by more ‘n a landslide, Yug—ya buried me in an avalanche!”  Yugi laughed at the joke as Joey started gathering his cards into one pile as well.

“Yeah,” Yugi said, “but a couple of turns ago when you had three monsters on the field and I didn’t have any, I was sure I was toast!”  It took a second, but Joey smiled.

“Yeah, I had ya on the ropes there, didn’t I?”  He tilted his head back and laughed, and Yugi nodded knowingly.

“Hello there, guys.”  The two of them looked up at Bakura, who was standing at the side of their desks.  They hadn’t noticed him among the cloud of students who had wanted to watch the duel; even if most of them weren’t duelists themselves, they’d heard about the Battle City tournament and knew a little of Yugi’s and even Joey’s reputations.  After this duel many of them wondered why on earth so many people would be even interested in such a boring game; others were now even more interested in it than before.

“Bakura!  You’re ba—” Yugi started, glad to see him after almost a week.  He stopped.  Bakura looked ragged.  He didn’t look like he’d been hurt, just exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in a while.  Like he hadn’t slept in a couple weeks.

“Oi, Bakura, ya look _awful_!” Joey said, ever the tactful one.  Bakura winced.

“Yeah,” he admitted apologetically, as if it was something he had to feel sorry for, “I don’t seem to have been sleeping well lately.”  Yugi’s heart went out to him—he knew what it was like to have recent sleeping troubles.  And he especially knew what it was like to bear a Millennium Item—even if Bakura’s had been thrown into the forest on the Duelist Kingdom island, bearing a Millennium Item for any length of time was still a burden, and Bakura had a special place in Yugi’s heart for it.

Bakura blinked owlishly and rocked for a moment on his feet.  That wasn’t just “not sleeping well”.  What on earth was with Bakura?

“Is anything the matter?” Yugi asked, quickly putting his deck in his backpack before turning back around.  The crowd had thinned out, but it just made Bakura seem smaller and more tired.  

Bakura shook his head.  He staggered slightly, putting one hand to his forehead as if he was reeling.  Yugi’s arms twitched forward in response, but he managed to stop himself.  Bakura wasn’t falling, although it looked close.  The bags under his eyes were almost as dark as the skin of Joey’s Red-Eyes Black Dragon.

“Just not… sleeping well…” he said.  He turned away before Yugi could say anything else and slipped into desk.  He didn’t do it, but Yugi could tell that Bakura wanted nothing more than to rest his head on his desk.

Yugi wanted to give Bakura his space, but he wanted to make sure he was okay even more.  He stood up and walked over to Bakura’s desk, which was only a couple down from his own.

“I think you should’ve stayed in bed,” he said seriously, leaning against a currently unoccupied desk next to Bakura’s.  Bakura shook his head, and when he was done he squeezed his eyes closed and opened them very suddenly.

“No, no, I’m okay, really,” he said, trying to smile reassuringly and failing spectacularly.  “It’s not that bad; I’m fine.  I’m just a little… tired.”  His eyes fluttered closed, and he started to tilt to one side before abruptly catching himself.

“Come on,” Yugi said, his voice firm and no-nonsense.  He stood up and pulled Bakura to his feet—he didn’t resist at all—and put one of Bakura’s arms around his shoulders; he had to stand on his tip-toes to be any kind of support.  “Let’s go to the nurse’s office.  You can lie down there.”  Bakura looked like he wanted to protest, but no sound came.  He let his head drop, his face hidden behind his white bangs.  

Joey noticed and had just opened his mouth and stood to his feet when the bell rang.  Like a stage cue, the teacher walked in.

“Mutou!  Wheeler! Bakura!  What do you think you’re doing?!” the teacher demanded.  Bakura jumped, putting a surprising amount of strain on Yugi.  Once he’d settled, Yugi looked over his shoulder, but found that that didn’t work; he lifted Bakura’s arm up and peered from under it at their teacher.

“Bakura’s not feeling well,” he explained.  “I was going to take him to the nurse’s office.”  The teacher frowned, his brow furrowing.  He crossed his arms over his chest.

“And why can’t he go himself?”  Yugi paused.

“Because… he’s… not… feeling… well…” he explained slowly, confused by the teacher’s confusion.  There was a pause, and then the teacher nodded huffily.

“Alright.  Mutou, take Ryou to the nurse’s office.  You have ten minutes!  Now go!”  Joey suddenly leapt up, slamming his hands on his desk.

“Now wait just a minute, there!  I’m gonna go too!” he shouted.  “No way Yug can lift Bakura all by hisself!  An’ ten minutes i’n’t enough time for _anyone_ to get to the nurse’s office an’ back when they’re carryin’ a sick—”  Yugi held up a hand.

“It’s okay, Joey,” he said, smiling reassuringly at him.  “I’ll be fine with Bakura.  You stay here and pay attention for me, okay?”  Joey glared at him for a second, then at the teacher, then turned back to Yugi.  With a resigned sigh he dropped back into his seat.

“Alright, Yug, whate’er ya say.”  He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and putting his feet up on the desk.  Yugi started shuffling away, holding Bakura—who was slowly becoming heavier and heavier with each moment that passed—and listening to the teacher berate Joey for his “poor posture”, which he knew Joey was absorbing none of.

“Ten minutes, Mutou!” the teacher repeated right before Yugi made it out the door.  Yugi nodded once, thinking secretly to himself that the teacher really needed to lighten up, and maybe play a game of Duel Monsters.

_Yugi._   Yugi didn’t stop shuffling with Bakura; it had taken a while, but he’d finally learned how to internalize reactions to the Pharaoh’s more abrupt emergences.

_What’s up, Pharaoh?_   He could feel the Pharaoh’s unease deep inside of him; Yami had been watching everything, but he hadn’t said much since their conversation in the bathroom.

_Yugi.  Doesn’t Bakura’s condition seem strange to you?_ the Pharaoh asked.  Yugi blinked in surprise, but kept walking, feeling Bakura’s weight drag against him. _He was gone for nearly seven days in a row, and he suddenly arrives today, looking as if he hasn’t slept in weeks.  Doesn’t any of this seem suspicious to you?_   Yugi frowned and shifted Bakura’s arm into a more comfortable position.

_I guess,_ he admitted, _especially when you put it that way.  But what could it mean?  I don’t think Bakura’s home-life is too bad, and it’s not like he’d be staying up countless nights and fighting in this tournament,_ he added.  _Maybe he’s just been sick, and the sleeplessness is part of that._   He could feel the Pharaoh consenting to these points.

_True, but his condition still doesn’t seem right.  He might be exhausted, but he doesn’t seem sick.  And whenever we’ve seen him he’s been relatively happy—compared to you and Tristan and especially Joey, he may not be too energetic, but he’s always been better than this.  This doesn’t sit right with me, my partner._ Yugi frowned as he helped Bakura down a staircase.

_It doesn’t sit right with me either,_ he admitted, _but there’s nothing we can do right now.  Bakura’s almost asleep as it is, and I can’t learn anything until he’s rested some._ He felt the Pharaoh ascent to this.

_Very well._   Yugi could feel the Pharaoh’s presence start to lessen.  _I will trust it unto you, then_.  He felt the Pharaoh recede until he was just a soft glow of consciousness somewhere in the back of his mind, just a little stronger than if he was sleeping.

The Pharaoh was watching.

He always watched over Yugi.

“Come on, Bakura,” Yugi said, his voice cheerful and reassuring.  “We’re almost there.  Just down the hall.”  Bakura’s eyelids fluttered in response, and Yugi felt him become even heavier.  Once Bakura had rested some, Yugi could ask him in more detail—and with more pressure—about what was wrong, and what he could do to help.  He just hoped Bakura would let him.

Yugi was almost sure his back was going to snap when he finally managed to reach the nurse’s office and push the door open.  By now Bakura was more out of it than in, and Yugi had to physically push him onto the bed and straighten out his legs for him.  He leaned over and panted once Bakura was lying, seemingly already unconscious, on the bed.

After he’d pulled himself together a little—and some of the soreness in his back and shoulders eased away—Yugi took a careful look at Bakura’s face.

He didn’t seem hurt in any way; just tired.  Exhausted, body and soul.  There were deep circles under his eyes, and even as he slept his eyelids fluttered as if he was having a horribly vivid nightmare.  Even in sleep Bakura looked troubled and helpless.  There weren’t any more clues that he could see than last time.

Yugi looked around, abruptly realizing that the nurse hadn’t moved to help him.  He noticed a sign on the door and sighed to himself—the nurse was out for today.  Of course she would be.  

He turned back to Bakura, who was laying on his back with his arms sprawled out to the sides and his legs half-bent, like he was somewhere between sleeping on his back and sleeping on his side.

“Hey Bakura,” he said quietly, not really expecting Bakura to answer.  Still, it was more polite to check.  “Will you be okay if I leave you here alone to sleep?”

“Don’t go… Yugi…” Bakura muttered, forcing his eyes open.  For a moment he frowned, as if he hadn’t meant to say that at all and it had just slipped out.  Yugi blinked in surprise.

“You’re still awake!”  Bakura nodded weakly, tipping his chin up and down in minute gestures.  

“I’m sorry… you should get to class,” he said.  Yugi frowned at the sudden change.

“Bakura…”  

Neither of them spoke for a moment, then Bakura closed his eyes.  He opened them again, and when he spoke, the words came slowly, as if they were some terrible confession.

“I’ve been… really lonely this last week…” he admitted.  “It’s been…”   His eyelids fluttered.  “…I’ve been so alone…”  His eyes stayed closed this time.  Yugi looked at the clock; it had already been fifteen minutes—he was late as it was, so he could see no harm in staying for a while.

“I’d be happy to stick around,” he said, smiling at Bakura, in a way he hoped was reassuring, and sitting on the edge of the bed.  Even though Bakura couldn’t see Yugi’s, the edges of Bakura’s lips pulled up into his own small smile.

“Thanks,” he said, a bit of the relief he was trying to hide showing through.  There was silence for a second, and then Yugi was unable to resist asking.

“What’s wrong, Bakura?  Really?  Why are you so tired like this?  And where have you been?”  For a long while, there was silence, and Yugi worried.  But then Bakura answered.

“I can’t…”  Yugi’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead; Bakura was shaking his head back and forth, using what little energy he had.  “I just… I can’t…”  He was shaking his head faster, and he was so caught up in the movement that his whole body was starting to rock.  Yugi reached forward to put a hand on Bakura’s chest and calm him, but Bakura hugged himself with one arm so tightly and so suddenly that there was no room in Yugi’s mind for doubt that it had been a defensive measure against him.

“Bakura…” he started, the name slipping out; he was surprised by how sad and hurt his voice was.  He watched as the tension in Bakura’s body released, although he didn’t drop his arm.  He looked completely helpless.

“I’m sorry… Yugi.   Things have been… really hard… lately.”  He raised his eyelids a little and stared at the ceiling.  His brown eyes seemed sad and faraway, and somewhat… scared.  Scared and lost and confused and, most of all, completely without hope.  “I don’t know what to do.  And there’s no one I can talk to.”  Yugi was suddenly leaning over him, one hand resting over his heart and his face distraught.

“You can talk to me, Bakura!  We’re friends!  You know that I’ll always help you whenever I can!” he shouted.  He knew he shouldn’t have been shouting, and he made an effort to lower his voice—but how could he not panic?  What could possibly be going on that would make him so helpless, so beaten down like this?  Bakura was so exhausted, he was practically asleep even as he spoke.  

Bakura shook his head.

“No, Yugi.  I can’t talk to you about it.  Especially… especially not you.”  Yugi leaned back, surprisingly hurt.

_It’s alright, Yugi,_ the Pharaoh said, reemerging at his partner’s distress.  _Whatever’s causing him to stay awake must be messing with his mind.  I sense something very dark at work here, Yugi._ The Pharaoh paused, but Yugi could tell there was more he wanted to say.  Silently, Yugi encouraged the Pharaoh to say it, even though he felt apprehensive already.

_I’m not sure it’s safe to associate with Bakura anymore._

_Pharaoh!_ Yugi cried silently; his fists tightened at his sides.  _How can you think that?!  I don’t know what’s going on with Bakura, and it makes me uncomfortable, too, but he needs us now more than ever!  How can you say we should stay away?!_   He glanced at Bakura, who had stopped his exhausted twitching and was finally lying still.  _He_ needs _us, Pharaoh._

_Partner,_ the Pharaoh warned.  Bakura opened his eyes and looked at Yugi.

“I’m really sorry for worrying you… Yugi…” he said.  “Why don’t you… go back…?  I’ll be okay…”  Yugi looked at him, but he realized there was nothing else he could really do.  Bakura was worrying him—one moment he wanted him there, and the next he clearly wanted him to go.  The Pharaoh tugging at his attention and trying to make him leave wasn’t helping either.

_There’s nothing you can do for him if he won’t let you,_ the Pharaoh said firmly.  _I know you want to help, but there’s nothing you can do.  Give him some time—we can find out more later._ The Pharaoh did want to help Bakura—Yugi could feel it.  And it was the only reason he was willing to give in.

“Alright,” he said aloud to both of them.  He stood up and threw Bakura a final glance.  “I’ll come check on you after school, okay?”

This time Bakura really was asleep.


	3. Chapter 2: Shadow Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for all the exclamation marks—but the thing is, when you actually hear them talk, they really do speak that way. It’s kind of unnatural as a speech pattern, but listen to the dub—they really do put that much emphasis into what they say. If you try to read the lines in the character’s voices, it doesn’t seem as bad. ;;;
> 
> I’m actually quite fond of the rules for this game… I think it sounds like fun! I’ll have full and proper rules posted at the end of the next chapter.

Chapter 2 -_-_-  Shadow Game

“Yug! … Earth to Yug! … Wake up or I’m gonna rip up yer Dark Magician!”

“Not my Dark Magician!” Yugi cried out in terror, lurching forward in his seat.  Tristan and Tea laughed, but not as hard as Joey.

“I knew that’d wake ‘im up,” he said smugly.  Yugi blinked and looked at the three of them.

“What time is it?” he asked, looking at the clock.

“One-forty,” Tea said.  “You’ve been totally out of it for the last twenty minutes or so; the teacher ran out of material, so he’s letting us socialize for a bit before the day ends.”  Yugi nodded slowly to himself.

“Yeah… I guess I have,” he admitted.

“Still worried about Bakura?” Tristan asked.  Yugi nodded again.  He’d told them about Bakura between classes, and during lunch the four of them had gone to check on him in the nurse’s office.  The bed had been empty, and a passing teacher, noticing them, mentioned that Bakura had gone home for the day.  

Yugi twitched his pencil back and forth in agitation, which he abruptly realized he’d been doing for the entire last… twenty minutes, had Tea said?… while he worried about Bakura.

“He was acting so strangely… and he seemed so weak,” he added.  Tristan shook his head.

“You don’t need to justify it to us, dude.  We know how you are.  Still going to stop by his house when school’s done?”  Yugi nodded again.  “I’m sorry I can’t go with you—I _promised_ my mom I’d help her set up for her tupperware dinner—” Tristan made a face “—and I’ll never hear the end of it if I back out now.”  Yugi smiled reassuringly at him.

“It’s okay,” he promised.  “I’ll be fine by myself.”  Tea had to work and Joey had received triple detentions, and a couple days ago Yugi and he had made a bet—if Yugi won a  quick duel, Joey had to stay and do his detentions like a model student.  And Yugi never lost—even if Joey had put forth so much energy and effort into the match Yugi had had to rely on the Pharaoh’s strength.  “Besides,” he added, putting his hands on either side of the Millennium Puzzle, “I’m never really alone, right?”

_Of course, my partner_.

“But Yug…” Joey started.  Yugi shook his head.

“It’s alright, really,” he promised them.  “I’ll be fine—Bakura’s a friend, too.  It’s not like I’m going towards a duel.”

“Yeah, but what ‘bout all those duelists in town for Battle City?!” Joey insisted.  “E’en _without_ your duel disk people’ll still know you’re Yugi Mutou!  And they’ll be able to guess that you’d still have your deck on ya!”  Tristan was nodding sagely in agreement.  Yugi smiled, embarassed.

“Come on, you guys!  You over-exaggerate my fame _way_ too much!  I promise, I can take care of myself!”  Joey and Tristan exchanged a look.

“ _Burningwarehouse_ ,” Tristan “coughed”.  Yugi scowled.

“This is different!  I promise I won’t give my puzzle to any mysterious fortune tellers, okay?  In fact, I won’t talk to _any_ strangers!”  Now it was Joey’s turn to cough.

“Unlessthey’rewearingadueldisk _cough_.”  He suddenly started coughing for real; Tea hit his back, but Tristan was too busy laughing.

“Joey swallowed his spit!” he cackled.  Joey grimaced at him.

The bell rang.

“Bye guys!”  They all looked up towards the door, where Yugi was smiling and waving.  He suddenly disappeared around the door frame.

“Be safe!” Tea called after him at the same time Tristan shouted, “I have my cell if you get in trouble!”  Tea elbowed him while he laughed.

Joey stared after Yugi, a bad feeling in the depths of his stomach.  If Joey hadn’t made that deal he would be following Yugi right now—but he never broke a promise, and definitely not one he’d made with a friend.

But that didn’t make him want to follow Yugi any less.

  *         *          *



Yugi craned his neck and tried to look at the numbers on the other apartment doors.  600… 602…  Yes, he was definitely standing in front of Bakura’s apartment.  He was admittedly nervous; he’d never been to Bakura’s house before.  And Bakura’d been acting so strangely… what if he didn’t even answer the door?

_It’s alright_ , the Pharaoh promised him.  _If he doesn’t let you in, the there would have been nothing you could do to help him, anyway._

_Pharaoh…_   Yugi glanced at the door again, wishing he didn’t feel so unsure of himself.  _I have to help him, no matter what._

_I know._

He knocked on the door and held his breath.  Several moments passed without any response.

_Yugi…_ the Pharaoh started.  Yugi shook his head and knocked on the door again.  _I do not want to crush your hopes, but—_

Yugi knocked violently on the door a third time.

“Who… is it…?” came a weak British voice from the other side of the door.  Even though Yugi must have been leaning against it, he could barely hear him.

_He was probably asleep—that’s why he didn’t answer earlier!_ he told the Pharaoh.  The Pharaoh seemed unimpressed.

“Bakura, it’s me, Yugi!  I just wanted to make sure you’re okay!”  There was silence for a second, then the sounds of a scuffle.  “Bakura!” Yugi shouted, feeling his heart jump into his throat.  “Bakura?!  Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine… Just tripped,” Bakura replied.  Yugi blinked; Bakura didn’t sound nearly as weak now.  The door unlocked.  “Why don’t you come in, Yugi?  I’m sure you must be hungry or tired—it’s a long walk from here to school, or even to the nearest bus stop.”

“Thanks, Bakura—” Yugi started.

_Yugi, don’t._   Yugi blinked in confusion.

_Pharaoh, what is it now?  You’ve been so panicky all day…_ he trailed off, pushing the door open and starting to wriggle out of his shoes.  The door opened onto a narrow hallway, a door set into the right wall further down and a room Yugi couldn’t see branching off to the left.  Bakura wasn’t in sight; he was probably already in the main room to the left.

_Yugi!  I’m getting a bad feeling about this—Bakura’s been acting strangely all day.  Too strangely.  I don’t like this.  What if he’s being controlled by Marik?_   Yugi tripped in surprise as he walked into the apartment.

_Marik?  No way… That doesn’t seem right at all!  Even if it was somehow true, wouldn’t Marik have wanted him as close to me as he could manage?  But instead he’s been gone for a week, and when he_ does _finally come back to school he’s so exhausted he can’t do anything_!

_I know you don’t want to consider it, Yugi, but it would explain why he’s so tired; Marik has Bakura running errands for him._

_Like what?  Bakura isn’t very strong, and he doesn’t have a reputation that can be manipulated or even any trace of an intimidating personality.  He’s smart, but Marik would be using his own mind, not Bakura’s.  I like Bakura, but I have to say that he wouldn’t be that much use to Marik, not for what he needs.  He hardly even duels, and isn’t registered for Battle City at all._

_I don’t know, Yugi,_ the Pharaoh said finally.  _But this sits poorly with me.  Please, Yugi, don’t go any further into the apartment._ Yugi considered the request, but realized, rather abruptly, that he was already standing at the end of the hall, beside the brightly lit main room of Bakura’s apartment.  His first thought was to look for Bakura and see if he looked any better, but he got distracted.

“Woooooow!” he shouted without thinking, looking around the walls.  Glass case after glass case were set against the walls, all the way from the floor to the ceilings.  In them were the three-inch tall, vibrantly painted plastic figures of Monster World, the most popular tabletop RPG in Japan.  There were only a few places that were devoid of the glass cases—the arch Yugi had come through, the window across the room under which sat a desk, another archway to his left that led into the apartment’s small kitchen, and another door on the wall adjacent to him.  In the middle of the room was a large, square table, a field for Monster World set up on it.  “Bakura!  This is amazing!”  He turned saw Bakura sitting in a chair at the desk.  He still looked tired, but better.  His eyes were sharp and clear, and he was watching Yugi like a hawk.

He smiled, and though his face warmed, it didn’t seem to reach as far into his eyes as it should.

“I’m glad you’re impressed, Yugi.  I really love Monster World, and it makes me happy that you do too.”  Yugi looked at him, thinking.

_He doesn’t sound right,_ the Pharaoh said.  He didn’t speak it, but Yugi could feel the Pharaoh’s fixation on Bakura’s eyes.  The way they watch them.  

Yugi shushed him and looked around the room again.

“Yeah… I’ve never actually played it before, but it looks really fun!” he said.  He rested his hand on his front right pocket absentmindedly.  “I’ve been really busy with Duel Monsters though, not that I mind.”  Bakura tilted his head to one side, never taking his brown eyes off of Yugi.

“You’re in the tournament, aren’t you?” Bakura asked.  “That big one that’s being hosted by Kaiba… Battle City?”  Yugi nodded and smiled at him; Bakura didn’t smile back.  Yugi frowned internally, careful to keep his face neutral.  Bakura _did_ seem less tired—but he didn’t seem any closer to normal.

“That’s right, Bakura.  I didn’t know you were that big of a fan of Duel Monsters,” he added.  He could feel the Pharaoh in the back of his mind.  He was not happy, but he was keeping quiet.  Bakura smiled a little, but it was a sort of curious, knowing smile, not a friendly one.  Yugi felt a finger of cold crawl up his spine.

“I enjoy all games,” he admitted, pushing himself out of his chair.  It looked like it took him a lot of effort, and he leaned against the desk once he was standing up.  “I like Duel Monsters quite a bit.  I have a small collection of cards, and I even have a deck…”  He opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a small stack of cards.  He looked at them for a second before setting them down.  “I’m not in the tournament, though.  I was too busy with… things.”  He looked again at Yugi and blinked slowly.  “The tournament’s rather interesting, though, don’t you think?  Eight duelists competing for Finals no one knows the location of, hosted by our own Seto Kaiba, with the title of King of Games at stake as well as the Egyptian God Cards…”

Yugi felt his body stiffen.

“The Egyptian Gods…?” he asked, his mouth dry.  He was smiling, but he it was weak and forced and he knew it looked it.  “What are you talking about, Bakura?  ‘Egyptian God Cards’?  That sounds powerful!”  He flashed his smile at Bakura, but again the other boy didn’t smile back.  He just stood there, and stared at Yugi, his expression curious and analyzing and blank.

_Yugi, get out of here now!_ the Pharaoh shouted.  It reverberated through Yugi’s skull, and he almost couldn’t resist wincing.  _He shouldn’t know that!  The only ones who know about the God Cards are those directly involved with them—us, Ishizu, Seto, Marik, and the people working for him!  You have to get out!_

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Yugi said, trying to make his voice sound casual.  “I hate to leave early, but I really have to go.  I promised my Grandpa I’d pick up a cardboard cut-out of Kaiba for him to show the shoppers that he’s selling cards for the tournament, and the place I need to get it from closes in half an hour, and it’ll take me twenty minutes just to walk over there. I’m really sorry to stay for so short a time, but I wanted to make sure to check in on you today, even though I knew I couldn’t stay long.”  He turned towards the door, but a crash drew his attention back to the desk.  To his confusion, there was no one there.

He turned back towards the door and jumped.  Bakura was already standing there, his back straight and a blatantly cruel smile on his face.  He was shuffling his Duel Monsters deck.

“Why don’t you stay just a little longer, Yugi?  I haven’t been feeling very well… It would make me very…”  He looked at the hand holding his now still deck, using his thumbb to work at one of his fingernails. “…happy.”  He looked back up at Yugi, and his grin was even wider.

_Yugi!_ the Pharaoh shouted.  Yugi suddenly felt him soul shunted to the side as the Pharaoh pushed himself into control.

“Bakura!  Let us out!” the Pharaoh shouted.  The grin on Bakura’s face became ecstatic, and he let the cards cascade to the ground; as if an unfelt wind swept through the room, his hair suddenly seemed to grow wilder as the look in his eyes grew crueler.

“Well, well, well!” he shouted, throwing his arms out to either side.  “It looks like the Pharaoh has arrived!  Have you finally seen it fit to grace our lowly lives with your presence?”  He threw his head back and laughed.  The Pharaoh glared at him, grinding his teeth together.

“Who are you?!” he demanded.  “And don’t claim to be out friend, Bakura!  I can tell well enough that you aren’t!  Is it you, Marik?!”  Bakura laughed again.

“How cruel!” he taunted, looking back at the Pharaoh.  His smile remained, but now every part of his expression seemed to drip of arrogance, to the narrowing of his eyes to the tilt of his head.  “You don’t even remember me, Pharaoh?!  What a poor king you are!  Maybe _this_ will refresh your memory!”  He thrust forward his hand, and out of his shirt, as if melting through the fabric, appeared something large and gold.

“No!” the Pharaoh shouted in horror.  But there was could be no denying what it was—the eye of Horus was staring back at him, so much like the eye on his own Millennium Puzzle.  “The Millennium Ring!”

“That’s right, Pharaoh!” the spirit wearing Bakura’s skin agreed, unable, and unwilling, to hide his pride and smugness.  “I am the spirit that inhabits the Millennium Ring!  I am the evil that lurks behind the heart of the one you call Bakura—the ‘Yami’ Bakura, if you will.”  His grin widened at the self-fashioned name, but the Pharaoh had no mind for his games right then—he was still reeling.

“The Millennium Ring, but it can’t be!  Tristan told me—”

“Oh please, Pharaoh!” the Spirit of the Millennium Ring laughed.  “You put too much faith in your petty friends!  The Millennium Items are forces mere mortals could never possibly hope to understand!  And the ways they work are just as enigmatic.  But I suppose you won’t have to worry about them for too long,” he added, his expression turning sly.  “After all, I plan on taking _yours_ from you very soon.”  The Pharaoh wrapped his hand protectively as far around the Millennium Puzzle as he could.  He braced himself and ground his teeth in fury.

“I will never let you have this puzzle, you snake!” he shouted.  He could feel Yugi’s fright deep within him, but he tried to push it away; he couldn’t worry about Yugi right now.  Keeping the puzzle safe was the only way to also keep the both of them safe.  

The Yami Bakura looked unperturbed.

“What, ‘over your dead body’?  If you hadn’t destroyed mine, I would have happily taken it off your corpse!  But I suppose the body of little Yugi will serve as a decent substitute!”  He brought his hands up in front of his face, palms upward, and curled his fingers.  “All of the Millennium Items have surfaced, and now it’s left to me to simply gather them!  And I’ll start with yours!”  He pointed at the Pharaoh and suddenly the room grew dark.

Enormous purple-black clouds boiled around them, the dim sounds of thunder in the distance.  They consumed everything, until floor, wall, and ceiling were indistinguishable.  Every once in a while the clouds would flash as if lightning burned deep within them, vague magenta scars on the roiling violet all about them, but there was never anything else to break up the monotony of the surrounding world.

“The Shadow Realm!” the Pharaoh spat.  He was shaking with barely restrained fury.  Yam Bakura laughed again.

“How attentive you’ve been, Pharaoh!  So you can remember this place, but not me?  I’m so offended!”  He laughed again and Yami felt deep within him towards Yugi; he needed his partner’s support right now—he had no idea what the Spirit of the Millennium Ring planned to do to him now that he was here.

But Yugi wasn’t there.

“Yugi!” he shouted.  His head snapped up and he glared at Yami Bakura, who stared back at him with an arrogant smirk.  “What have you done to my partner, you snake?!”  Yami Bakura’s grin widened and he gestured around them.

“Ask the Shadow Realm that, dear Pharaoh!” he cried.  “It does as it will, and no more!”

“It does as it needs to to meet the rules of a Shadow Game!” the Pharaoh shouted in reply.  “So what game are you planning?!”

The Spirit of the Millennium Ring—the Dark Bakura—struck a bow.

“Well spotted, dear Pharaoh!  There seems to be some form of a brain beneath that glowing Eye of Horus after all!”  Forty Duel Monsters cards suddenly appeared in front of them, all face-down and in attack position.  They flew to the no-man’s land between them and arranged themselves into two groups of twenty, five cards wide and four cards deep.  “Tell me, Pharaoh, have you ever played the modern-day game of Concentration?”  Yami Bakura took a step forward, up to the edge of the cards.  The Pharaoh didn’t move.

“In the game, there are an even number of face-down cards,” Yami Bakura continued, picking up a card with two fingers on his side and looking at it nonchalantly.  “Each card is part of a pair; as the game is usually intended for children, the images on each are often brightly-colored mundane objects.  The players take turns flipping two cards over; if they match, the cards are removed from play and the player who chose them collects them.  If the player finds a match, they get to go again.  If they are incorrect, both cards are flipped face-down again and returned to play.  The positions of cards that are turned back over remains the same, so you can use your opponent’s unsuccessful turns to help guide yourself to victory.  At the end of the game, the player who has the most pairs wins.”  He looked up at the Pharaoh as he placed the card back down, his expression contemptuous.  The cards moved by themselves, sliding as if over an invisible plane so that each card was now in a new position.  “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the Pharaoh said flatly.  “But these are Duel Monsters cards.  What do you intend to do?”  Yami Bakura flashed a dark grin at him.

“The game we will be playing will be very much like Concentration, Pharaoh.  Before you are twenty face-down Monster Cards—Monster Cards from your very own deck!”  He gestured at the cards in front of himself.  “And in front of me are twenty of my own Monsters!  We’ll each take turns flipping the cards over; one of our own, and then one of our opponent’s.  If the attacks of the cards match, then both cards are removed from play.”

“And the person with the most pairs wins?” the Pharaoh asked, folding his arms contemptuously.  Yami Bakura smiled dangerously and wagged a finger at him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself _too_ much Pharaoh!  This is my game, and _I_ am the only one who knows the rules, don’t forget that!  If you want to know what you’re doing, you’d better shut that royal mouth of yours and listen, hadn’t you?”  The Pharaoh glared at him.

“We will _not_ be collecting pairs,” the Spirit of the Millennium Ring continued, “as you oh-so-stupidly guessed.  This game’s winner is not decided by how many pairs we have—you win when your opponent either runs out of monsters or their Lifepoints hit zero.”

“Lifepoints?!” 

Yami Bakura glared at him, not looking so amused this time.

“There’s that ‘quiet’ thing again, Pharaoh.  If you’re that eager to play we can skip the rules and start, and I’ll let you wallow in your ignorance!”  This time, the Pharaoh said nothing.  “As I was saying, your opponent can also lose if his Lifepoints hit zero.  We each start the game with 4000 Lifepoints.

“And now here is where this game takes the largest turn from its humble roots—if you happen to pick a monster with a higher attack than my monster, then the difference is taken from my Lifepoints and my monster is destroyed, and your monster is turned face-down.  Just like in Duel Monsters, eh, Pharaoh?”  the Pharaoh said nothing, and Yami Bakura smirked.  “It seems that one _can_ teach an old Pharaoh new tricks, can’t they?  Anyway, if you attack my monster and destroy it, the difference is dealt to my Lifepoints.  But if you attack my monster with a _lesser_ attack, then the difference is dealt to your Lifepoints instead, and _your_ monster is destroyed while mine stays on the field!  If the attacks are equal, both monsters are destroyed but neither of our Lifepoints take damage, and the player who selected can go again.  Do you understand so far?  You may answer, this time,” he added.

“Yes,” the Pharaoh said flatly.  Yami Bakura smiled.

“You know, I rather like this quiet version of you.  No long rants about the ‘Heart of the Cards’ or preaching about ‘friendship’!”  He scoffed and waved a hand dismissively through the air.  “There are a few more rules to this game, dear Pharaoh.  For one thing, when it is your turn you do not _have_ to attack one of your opponent’s monsters; you have the choice to either attack or flip a monster face-up.  When a monster is flipped face-up, it will remain in face-up position for the entirety of the game, unless one of your monsters’ effects allows it to turn face-down again.  And that’s another rule in itself—the effects of monsters still work.  But I’ll get to that later, shall I?  When you flip a monster face-up, any Flip Effects it has will occur; Flip Effects are also activated when a monster attacks the monster in face-down position.

“You may turn a monster to Defense Mode, but only if it is already face-up.  If a monster in Defense Mode is defeated, the difference is not taken from your Lifepoints.  But in return, you cannot choose a Defense Mode monster to attack.  Nod your head if you understand, Pharaoh—I’m rather enjoying not having to listen to your voice.”  the Pharaoh nodded.  “Excellent.  I believe that is all you need to know.”

“Who will go first?” the Pharaoh demanded; now that Yami Bakura was done explaining, he felt no need to continue his silence.  Yami Bakura smiled.

“Not quite so fast, Pharaoh!  Before you inadvertently accept my challenge, don’t you want to know the stakes of this Shadow Game?!”  The Pharaoh just glared at him.  Yami Bakura raised his arms.  “Come, stakes!”  Out of the clouds appeared two objects—Yugi, unconscious and hanging spread-eagle in the air, his arms bound by the dark clouds that composed the Shadow Realm; and the Millennium Puzzle, its chain dangling limply.

“Yugi!  My Puzzle!” the Pharaoh shouted.  He instinctively grabbed for the puzzle against his chest, but his hand came down on only empty air.  “How did you get them, Bakura?!”

“ _I_ did nothing,” Yami Bakura laughed.  “They are the stakes for the Shadow Game, Pharaoh, so the Shadow Realm has acted on its own to set the playing field!  If you win, you get your precious little Yugi back, as well as your pathetic Puzzle!  But if _I_ win, I not only get your puzzle, but I’ll send both yours and Yugi’s souls to the shadows, as well!”  He threw his head back and laughed; the Pharaoh’s hands tightened into fists.

“I refuse!” the Pharaoh shouted; Yami Bakura didn’t stop laughing.  “The stakes are too high!  If you lose you lose nothing, but if I lose I lose everything!”  Yami Bakura straightened and shook his head, making a “tsk tsk tsk” sound with his tongue as he did.

“I wouldn’t be so rash, Pharaoh!  You risk too _much_ to refuse!  I have the power to send little Yugi to the shadows whether you duel or not!  And if you truly refuse, I’ll have no problem sending him on his way to be devoured!”  The Pharaoh flinched, his eyes narrowing further.

“Then adjust your stakes!” he shouted.  Yugi’s eyelids started to flutter.  Yami Bakura shook his head, but then shrugged helplessly, the gesture so insincere its mockery sent a lick of fury up the Pharaoh’s spine.

“Very well,” Yami Bakura conceded, “I see no reason why not, especially since I don’t intend to lose!”  He snapped his fingers and two more objects appeared out of the clouds—the Millennium Ring and the unconscious figure of Bakura, held in the air in the same way Yugi was.

“Bakura!” Yugi shouted in fright, coming around and seeing his friend.  He noticed the dark circles around Bakura’s wrists and ankles and looked to see the same on himself; he whipped his head around, looking straight at where he expected the Pharaoh to be—he was right.  “Pharaoh!”  The Pharaoh stared up at him, his face etched with anger and worry.

“Yugi!”  Yugi looked around him, taking the whole situation in.  He seemed sick.

“This is a Shadow Game, isn’t it?” he asked weakly.  The Pharaoh opened his mouth to speak, but Yami Bakura beat him to it.

“So it seems both sprit _and_ host find themselves in possession of brains!  What a twist!  Yes, little Yugi, welcome again to the Shadow Realm!”  He threw his arms out to either side, taking in the swirling clouds around them.  “It’s missed you, hasn’t it?”  Some of the cloud next to Yugi bulged, nearly grazing his side.  He flinched, though he couldn’t go far, and the Pharaoh cried out.  Yami Bakura laughed.  “No need to fear yet, little Yugi!  There’s still a chance your Pharaoh in shining armor will save you, isn’t there?”   The Pharaoh growled at him.  Yami Bakura turned back to his opponent.

“Well, Pharaoh, are you satisfied?” he asked, gesturing to his unconscious host and his Millennium Ring.  “Now if I lose, I lose my Millennium Ring to you and the soul of my host, as well as my own!  You can’t deny that everything is fair now!”

“Lose the hosts,” the Pharaoh spat.  “I will not play if their souls are at stake.”  Yami Bakura shook his head and wagged his finger.

“No deal, your highness.  The soul of my pathetic host is one of my advantages against you—I want to shake your resolve, Pharaoh, make you not _want_ to win.  I know that losing the soul of my host won’t hurt _you_ , but imagine how much it would devastate yours.”  He laughed darkly; the Pharaoh could imagine how much pain Yugi would be in if Bakura was forfeited to the shadows.  “You might say it’s dastardly and dishonorable of me, but I’d like you to recall a time when that’s stopped me.  I’m here to win, Pharaoh, and I won’t throw away my advantages because you ask me to!”  

The Pharaoh ground his teeth, but there was nothing he could do—Yami Bakura wouldn’t spare Bakura _or_ Yugi.  These were the final stakes; he couldn’t possibly hope to get them changed again.  Yami Bakura had set up this trap for him, and the Pharaoh had triggered it just as the Spirit of the Millennium Ring had wanted him to.

“Yugi…” the Pharaoh started, looking up at this partner.  Yugi shook his head, his violet eyes strong and determined.

“Don’t worry about me, Pharaoh!  I believe in you and the monsters who have shared so many of our duels!  They won’t let us down, I just know it!”

“But your friend…”

“We’ll find a way to save him,” Yugi said, the reassuring smile on his face genuine.  “I don’t want to lose him to the shadows either, but we’re clever and strong, you and I—if anyone can figure out how to get him back, it’ll be us!”  The Pharaoh blinked at his partner’s strength.  He clenched his hand.

“Very well, my partner.  I thank you for your confidence.”  He turned to Yami Bakura, his expression full of hate and determination.  “I accept your Shadow Game.”  Yami Bakura grinned, the most cruel and blood-thirsty iteration of the expression yet.

“Excellent.”


	4. Chapter 3: I Refuse to Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actually exceptionally fond of Duel Monsters Concentration. While it might not be terribly ORIGINAL, I’m still proud of it and the way I managed to combine these two games. There was no way I was going to do a proper Duel Monsters duel—oh man, that’d be way too complicated! That being said, I do plan to include one later on, by carefully transcribing a duel I’ll take part in in Nightmare Troubadour. (Oh man, that’s going to be so obnoxious.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Yami Bakura is a loony.

Chapter 3 -_-_-  I Refuse to Lose

“You can go first,” Yami Bakura said arrogantly, moving around to his side of the cards.  The Pharaoh took his place in front of his own.  “After all, this is my game, I might as well give you a handicap.”

“Do what you will, snake,” the Pharaoh spat.  He looked at his cards, staring at the blank backs.  Who knew what lay under each card?  He believed in his cards—he truly believed they wouldn’t let him down, and somehow he _knew_ that they wouldn’t.  _We can do it,_ he thought, speaking directly to both the cards and Yugi.  He knew what Yugi would say.

_I know you can._

Numbers appeared in the air behind them, thin, burning digits that blazed orange against the purple clouds.  4000, 4000.  Before them, the cards expanded, now five feet tall and three feet wide.  The no-man’s land between their cards shrank.

“Monster, lend me your strength!” the Pharaoh shouted; his voice boomed in the silence of the Shadow Realm just as it did in the middle of a Duel.  He threw his arm forward, pointing directly at the black heart of one of the cards.  It didn’t move.

“Didn’t I say, Pharaoh?” Yami Bakura asked sarcastically.  “The cards don’t flip over until you’ve chosen both.”  The Pharaoh scowled, but pointed at one of Yami Bakura’s cards.

“Go, my beast!” he shouted.  Both cards flipped over at the same time; the Pharaoh felt his heart drop for a moment.  Kuriboh—one of his closest monsters, but also one of his weakest.  How could it be enough?  He looked at Yami Bakura’s card and felt his face crack into a triumphant smile.

“My Kuriboh has one hundred more attack than your Dragon Piper!” he shouted, glaring Yami Bakura right in the eye.  With a scream, the Dragon Piper shattered into a million triangular pieces, just like when a monster was destroyed in a holographic duel.  The Kuriboh turned back over.  Yami Bakura’s arrogant smirk never slipped, even as the numbers unwound themselves like snakes behind him and moved into new formations.

4000, 3900.

“Well done, Pharaoh,” Yami Bakura said.  “I enjoy seeing that hope on your face—it lets me know that it’ll crush you all the more when you lose.”  He stared at the face-down Kuriboh thoughtfully.  “How fortunate, though; the one monster in my cards that could be defeated by your little mud-covered puff ball.”  He raised his eyes to Yugi’s and glared at him over his smirk.  “I purposefully included that card to spark that hope—thank you for taking it out of the game so early!”  He pointed at two cards using his index and middle fingers.  

“Go!  Destroy his pathetic monster!”  The two cards turned over, revealing Kuriboh and a Mad Sword Beast.  There was another cry, different this time, as Kuriboh shattered.  The Pharaoh grunted in pain as his Lifepoints dropped.  “Incredible how quickly this game can turn, isn’t it?” Yami Bakura asked, smirking.  “Now I’m beating you by a thousand points.”  He shrugged.  “Oh well, go again, Pharaoh.”

The Pharaoh scowled, but pointed at two cards.

“Destroy his monster with your might!” he shouted.  The two cards turned over; his own Winged Dragon, Guardian of the Fortress and Yami Bakura’s The Gross Ghost of Fled Dreams.  The ghost’s scream echoed through the quiet before it shattered.  Yami Bakura laughed at something The Pharaoh couldn’t see.

“Very well, Pharaoh!” Yami Bakura shouted.  “I choose these two cards!”  They turned over; the Pharaoh’s Beaver Warrior and Yami Bakura’s The Portrait’s Secret.  Two screams shook the clouds around them and both cards shattered.  “Well, it looks like I guessed right!”  He smirked at the Pharaoh, who scowled bitterly at him.  “Then I’ll choose these two!  Attack!”  Yami Bakura’s Dragon Zombie destroyed The Pharaoh’s Koumori Dragon.  “Well, well, Pharaoh—you take another hit.  Are you too scared to continue?”  He glared haughtily at the Pharaoh, who glared back at him with all the loathing he could muster.

“Attack my beast!” he shouted in response.  The two cards turned over; his own Skull Red Bird to a Headless Knight.  A muffled cry of pain; the Headless Knight shattered.

“Incredible, Pharaoh,” Yami Bakura scoffed, even as his fiery numbers moved.  “How unfortunate you are!  You keep choosing monsters that only win by a hundred points.  Is someone losing his touch?”  He pointed at two cards before the Pharaoh could answer.  “Cards!”

The two cards turned over—his own Penguin Soldier and the Pharaoh’s Mystical Elf.  A squawking cry rang through the heavy air and the Penguin Solider shattered.

2800, 3650.

“What was that about my luck?” the Pharaoh asked, showing a little of his own arrogance.  He crossed his arms and smirked.  “You just so happened to choose one of the few monsters my Mystical Elf could defeat!  It would seem that you’re loosing your own touch.”  The numbers behind Yami Bakura shifted again—his smirk didn’t.

“You might have destroyed my Penguin Soldier,” he agreed, “but its effect will take much more from you!”  The cry sounded again, stronger this time, angry and determined.  The Penguin Soldier itself appeared over the field—not the card, but the monster—waving its sword in anger.  “Go, my Penguin Soldier!  Destroy two of his monsters!”  With a war cry, the penguin pierced first one card and then a second; the two cards shattered without turning over.  The penguin shrieked in triumph before being blown away, as if it was made of smoke, by a nonexistent wind.

“No!” the Pharaoh shouted, looking at the gaps in the neat rows of cards.  “That isn’t right!  Penguin Soldier’s effect sends two of my monsters back to my _hand_ , not to the graveyard!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” Yami Bakura asked, sounding pleased with himself.  “There is no hand, or graveyard, so all cards are removed from play!  Only cards that call a monster from the graveyard can be used to summon these monsters—which have to stay in face-up position— _not_ cards that call monsters from your hand or deck.”

“Damn you, Bakura!” the Pharaoh shouted.  “All rules to the Shadow Game must be told before it begins!”  Yami Bakura shrugged.

“What can I say, Pharaoh?  I just ‘forgot’.”  He laughed darkly and the Pharaoh ground his teeth together.

“My turn!” the Pharaoh shouted, cutting Yami Bakura’s laughter short.  “I turn over this card—my Mystical Elf!”  The card he pointed to turned over.  “I set her in Defense Mode and end my turn.”  The card rotated by itself.  Yami Bakura smirked.

“Very well, Pharaoh!” he said, crossing his arms.  “I don’t believe it’ll help you, though!”  He pointed to two of the face-down cards on the field.  “Consume his Lifepoints!”  The two cards turned over; a triumphant smirk settled over the Pharaoh’s face for a moment before turning to horror.  His card was a Gemini Elf, one of the most powerful four-star monsters in the game with 1900 attack.  But Yami Bakura’s card was Patrician of Darkness.  A card with 2000.

Gemini Elf shattered as the fiery ropes that were his Lifepoints rearranged themselves.  Yami Bakura was ecstatic.

2700, 3650.

“Dammit!” the Pharaoh swore under his breath.

“You can do it!” Yugi shouted from where he hung against the boiling sky.  “Believe in the Heart of the Cards, Pharaoh!  I believe in you!  You can win this!”  The Pharaoh looked up at his partner and smiled.  Yugi smiled back.  He’d forgotten for a moment that Yugi was watching this game as well.  He could suddenly feel his partner’s presence like a field of electricity around him—confidence surge through him, knowing that his partner was there, cheering him on.

The Pharaoh nodded once to him before turning back to the duel.

“I won’t let your luck faze me, Bakura!” he shouted, his voice reinvigorated by the reminder of Yugi’s presence.  Instead of looking cowed by this surge of confidence, Yami Bakura looked delighted.  “I believe in the Heart of the Cards, and my bond with Yugi!  I won’t fail him, and our friendship will not be broken by some foolish game!  Come, my monster!  Destroy his Patrician of Darkness!”  He pointed to two cards; the first one turned over on his side, and he felt a stutter of horror in his heart; Man-eating Treasure Chest.  That was only 1600 attack; not nearly enough to destroy his Patrician of Darkness.  Had the Heart of the Cards failed him?

“Tch.”  He looked up to see Yami Bakura grimacing, staring at his card on his side that had been turned over.  The Pharaoh looked as well and felt his eyebrows climb up his forehead.  The card that had been turned over was a Baron of the Fiend Sword, not the Patrician of Darkness.  The Pharaoh had remember the Patrician of Darkness’ position incorrectly and pointed to the wrong card.  Before his eyes the card shattered, and Yami Bakura’s Lifepoints rearranged themselves into a new number.

2700, 3600.

“Impressive once again, Pharaoh.”  Yami Bakura looked into the Pharaoh’s eyes, and he wasn’t smiling so much anymore.  He looked frustrated.  “Even when you make a mistake you aren’t wrong.”  His smirk returned, but it was more an expression of anger than contemptuous amusement.  “But I won’t allow you to be so lucky anymore!”  He pointed to one of his cards, one right next to the gap left by his Baron of the Fiend Sword, which the Pharaoh knew housed the Patrician of Darkness.  “I flip my Patrician of Darkness over, locking him in Attack Mode!  Move _now,_ Pharaoh!  What will you do when the only monster you can attack is my Patrician of Darkness?!”

The Pharaoh stared at the card, his brow furrowed in concentration.  He knew the Patrician of Darkness’ effect allowed its controller to choose the target of all of their opponent’s attacks—and why wouldn’t Yami Bakura send all of the Pharaoh’s monsters at his Patrician of Darkness, expecting each to smash against its attack and be destroyed?  This meant that the Pharaoh couldn’t target any of Yami Bakura’s face-down cards in the hopes that they were weaker, and chip away at his Lifepoints that way.  His only hope was to believe in the Heart of the Cards and trust them to save him.

“My monster!” he shouted.  “Attack, and take my faith with you!”  The card flipped over.  Its attack wasn’t nearly enough to destroy Bakura’s Patrician of Darkness.  

But its effect was.  

It shattered with a scream, and the numbers behind the Pharaoh changed.  But the smirk on his face didn’t.

“You may not know this, Bakura, but my Newdoria comes with a special effect—when it’s destroyed in battle it can destroy one monster!  And I choose your Patrician of Darkness!”  Heavy, percussive beats shook the ground, jarring both the Pharaoh and Yami Bakura; the cards didn’t move.  A massive creature suddenly appeared behind the Pharaoh, towering over him.  It glared at Yami Bakura—who took a step back, his face set in an aggressive scowl—with sightless eyes.  “Destroy his card, my monster!”  The Newdoria let out a howl and brought one of its limp hands crashing down onto the Patrician of Darkness.  It cast a shock-wave out, making some of the cards spin and fly into the air as the Patrician of Darkness shattered with an agonizing keen.  The cards that had been sent flying flew back to their proper places and settled once more, seeming as if they’d never been disturbed.  The Newdoria blew away like smoke, just like the Penguin Soldier before it.

1900, 3650—but Yami Bakura was down one of his more powerful monsters.

Yami Bakura scowled.

“Count your blessings, Pharaoh!  You were fortunate this time, but next time you won’t be so lucky!”  He pointed to two of the cards, then brought his hand up and pointed them straight at the Pharaoh’s heart.  The two cards flipped over; the Pharaoh flinched as his monster—and a hundred of his Lifepoints—were destroyed.

“You can do it Pharaoh!” Yugi shouted, suffusing all of his hope and faith in his voice.  The Pharaoh clenched his fists; he couldn’t let Yugi down.  Not Yugi, not to an enemy as despicable and loathsome as the Spirit of the Millennium Ring.

“I’ll protect you, my partner!” the Pharaoh shouted, flinging his hand out, his fingers spread wide.  “I’ll protect my puzzle and our future!  I will not fail you!”  He pointed to two cards.  “Destroy his monster!”  He scowled bitterly; a tie.  The two shattered, but he ignored them—he was already on to the next two.  “Attack!”  The two turned over and the Pharaoh laughed with victory—his Fairy King Truesdale had a thousand more attack than Yami Bakura’s Pyramid Turtle.

“Now Pharaoh, really—why on _earth_ would you be laughing now?” Yami Bakura asked, his voice sly and dark, even as the fiery numbers moved behind him and his card shattered with a scream.  The Pharaoh fell silent, eyeing Yami Bakura warily.  “Didn’t you notice, Pharaoh?  The color of my card?”  The Pharaoh’s eyes widened.

“It was an effect monster!”

“And there’s that purported ‘brain’ coming into play again!” Yami Bakura said, his voice dripping with scorn.  “My Pyramid Turtle allows me to summon one zombie-type monster with a defense of 2000 or less from my deck!”

“But we don’t have decks!” the Pharaoh shouted; he knew Yami Bakura was going to shed light on yet another rule the Pharaoh hadn’t heard of.  Yami Bakura grinned at him, none of his earlier frustration showing, and wagged his finger back and forth.

“And there’s that interrupting thing again, as well, Pharaoh.  You may think you’re so high-and-mighty, but how about letting us little people speak when we have the power to bring you big ones to your knees?!”  He threw his arms out to either side and laughed.  An enormous ripple appeared in the clouds above them and a monstrous shape emerged, larger than their entire playing field.  It roared, its cry deafening.  The Pharaoh grimaced and held his hands tightly over his ears, but Yami Bakura didn’t seem to notice the sound—he was still laughing as if he had just thrust a dagger through the Pharaoh’s heart already.  “Go, my Pyramid Turtle!  Reveal to me the location of my Vampire Lord!”  All of the cards started to shake and rumble as if the plane they were on was rippling; the Pyramid Turtle roared again, and then suddenly a card in the row closest to Yami Bakura and a little to the left of his hand flew into the air, spinning and turning as it did until it fell onto the plane once again.  It sent the cards rocking in one final shock-wave before both the energy and the Pyramid Turtle receded once more.

The Pharaoh glared at the face-up Vampire Lord, torn between his horror at its arrival and his fury with Yami Bakura for not telling him all of the rules.  He could practically feel Yami Bakura’s smirk like a dagger over his throat.

“Now it’s my turn, isn’t it?” Yami Bakura asked.  His voice dripped malice and a promise of blood.  “Go, my Vampire Lord!  Suck the life from my enemy’s body!”  A card on the Pharaoh’s side of the field flipped over; Giant Red Sea Snake.  With a cry it shattered, scattering the Pharaoh with shards.  He scowled.  “And guess what?”  The Pharaoh glared at him, knowing what followed could not possibly be good.  “When my Vampire Lord takes a bite out of your Lifepoints—as it just did, dear Pharaoh—I get to choose one type of card and you must remove it from your deck.  Which means you must send one of your Monsters to the graveyard from the field!”  The Pharaoh ground his teeth, but he believed Yami Bakura; he knew that card’s effect as well.

“I choose my Feral Imp!  Thank you for your sacrifice, my monster!”  A card two rows away from him flipped over and shattered with a scream.  He could hear Yami Bakura starting to chuckle.

“Well… well… well, Pharaoh. Still feeling so high-and-mighty?”  The Pharaoh raised his eyes to glare into Yami Bakura’s.  The Pharaoh was positive in that instant that he stared into the face of evil—every part of Yami Bakura’s expression, the smile, the way his eyes were narrowed, reeked of absolute joy at the Pharaoh’s frustration, at the fact that he would lose his soul forever when he lost.  There was absolutely no doubt in that face—the Pharaoh _would_ lose, and when he did he would shatter like the worthless soul he was, lost for all eternity in a pit of hell he was only deserving of.  And the fact that the Pharaoh could see this, could imagine that fate, could be shaken by the horrendous thought of it, filled the Spirit of the Millennium Ring with ecstasy.

But he was making a big mistake—the Pharaoh wouldn’t lose.  The Pharaoh _didn’t_ lose.  Never.  No matter how skilled his opponent, no matter how poorly-suited he was to the game.

The Pharaoh.  Did.  Not.  Lose.

He was the King of Games, and he didn’t need some false title given to him by Seto Kaiba to know _that_.  He’d proven it time and time again—every time Yugi was in trouble, every time he was challenged, or he made the challenge, to protect his friends or to protect his puzzle.  Every game he played, he won.  No matter how tough, how tight, how frightening, no matter the stakes.  

He would not lose because he could not lose.  

And if he could beat Seto Kaiba, and Maximillion Pegasus, and Marik on countless occasions, each in a game as complicated and prone to turn-arounds as Duel Monsters, he could certainly beat this two-bit hack at a child’s game of Concentration!

“Laugh all you want, Bakura!” he shouted, hoping his resolve and his anger and confidence shone through his voice and burned Yami Bakura’s skin.  By the way Yami Bakura’s grin fell away, he guessed that, to some degree, it did.  “It’ll be your only comfort when you whither in the Shadow Realm!”  He called upon two face-down cards; they flipped over, and Yami Bakura’s card shrieked in pain as it shattered.  The numbers rearranged behind him again.  The Pharaoh’s 1600 to Bakura’s 2400.

Yami Bakura smirked, but he didn’t really look as sure as he let on.

“Poor Pharaoh, it’s alright.  You don’t have to act brave anymore—when you’re lost in the Shadow Realm, I know _someone_ will mourn your passing—with you gone, who else will I have to crush?!”  He threw his head back and laughed, and the Pharaoh suppressed a scowl.  

Damn that bastard, damn him to the deepest pits of hell.  

“Well, I won’t keep you waiting, Pharaoh—I know how the worry can be worse than the event!”  He pointed first to his Vampire Lord and then to one of the Pharaoh’s cards and pitched his arm into the sky; the Pharaoh’s card flipped over.  “Of course, in this case, the real thing is so, so much worse!”  A scream; the Pharaoh flinched as his Lifepoints were lowered once again.  “And thanks to my Vampire Lord’s effect, you’re now down another monster, aren’t you?”

“I choose my Stone Soldier,” the Pharaoh said, his voice still burning with confidence.  Little losses like these wouldn’t shake him.  Duel Monsters was all about sacrifices, about taking the hits when you could so that you could deal them back worse.  And deal them back he would.

A card two rows down and to his left shattered with an agonizing scream.  Yami Bakura smirked.

1400, 2400.

The Pharaoh could feel a tendril of anxiety deep in his stomach, emerging even through his confidence and resolution.  Bakura had a thousand more Lifepoints than him.  And the field was starting to look very empty—Yami Bakura still had more than half of his monsters, but the Pharaoh had only seven left.  Seven.  True, he hadn’t revealed anything truly powerful yet, which meant that the odds were high the monsters he’d need would be in these seven cards, but what if Yami Bakura had effects that threw away his monsters regardless of attack?  It was a frightening thought.  

He tried to push everything away; he knew the thoughts wouldn’t help him, knew it could only hinder him.  He had to play to win, and he had to play knowing he would win.  He shunted everything to the side until there was only one thought in his head that he knew to be absolutely true—he couldn’t survive any more turns with the Vampire Lord on the field.

“You can do it, Pharaoh!”  The Pharaoh turned again to Yugi, his partner’s eyes ablaze with confidence.  Yugi had been silent through most of the duel, letting the Pharaoh concentrate.  “Things might look bad, but this is always the part of the duel where everything falls into place, all of the cards come together!  Believe in the Heart of the Cards, Pharaoh, just like you always do!  They always come through for us, always now, when things look so dire and hopeless!  Just believe in the Heart of the Cards, like I believe in you!  They know we’re right, they know we’re just!  They won’t let us lose!”  If the Pharaoh had ever been thankful for his partner—and he had on several occasions—it was nothing compared to how he felt now.  For a second he wondered how he could ever live without Yugi, and for a second he was glad that if anything happened to his partner he wouldn’t be around too long to have to deal with it.  But he quickly threw _that_ thought away—he didn’t want to take comfort in the fact that if Yugi died he’d pass on, too.  Right now he had to focus on not letting that happen, so he and Yugi could have years to spend together yet.

Yami Bakura was making gagging noises in the background.

The Pharaoh closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He let his belief in the Heart of the Cards, in his partner, in the fact that they held a bond that couldn’t be broken and wouldn’t be broken now, flow through his body.  He then pointed, unsure where he pointed, or at which card.  He opened his eyes and stared straight down his finger, at the black heart in the back of a card.

“Go!  My monster!  Take the faith in my heart and strike his Vampire down!”  He could hear Yami Bakura scoff.  He watched as the card flipped over.  Yami Bakura gave a strangled cry of shock and his Vampire Lord shattered, taking some of Yami Bakura’s Lifepoints with him.  

1600, 1900.

The Pharaoh smiled at the face of his Dark Magician.

“Thank you, my friend,” he said to the card as a cry of joy came from Yugi on the sidelines.  “It’s wonderful to see you.”  The card flipped back over again, hiding in the shadows, ready to attack at its master’s next call.  Yami Bakura was growling quietly in the back of his throat, but he forced his annoyance down.

“Very good, Pharaoh!  It would seem luck’s on _you_ r side, this turn!” he shouted.  “But don’t think you’ll be so fortunate the _whole_ game.  There’s still plenty yet, and I _will_ destroy you and that foolish host’s spirit and claim your puzzle as my own!  Nothing will stop me from gaining all of the Millennium Items and fulfilling my goals, and least of all some amnesiac pharaoh!”  He pointed directly at the Pharaoh’s heart.  The Pharaoh gave a quick laugh.

“Except for your general incompetence, of course.”  Yami Bakura drew his shoulders up in reflex.  He hissed at the Pharaoh.

“My monster!  Attack his face-down card!” he shouted.  A card on his side of the field and a face-down card on The Pharaoh’s side both flipped over.  With a scream, the Pharaoh’s was destroyed.  The Pharaoh shrugged it off and called upon his Dark Magician and one of Yami Bakura’s monsters; the thing never stood a chance.  Yami Bakura grimaced in pain.

“Don’t get haughty yet, Pharaoh,” he snarled.  The Pharaoh smirked.  “Just because you’ve gotten lucky this time doesn’t mean you’ll win.  You can rely on that Dark Magician of yours if you want to, but don’t think it can support you forever.”

“I don’t need it to last forever,” The Pharaoh said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  He was still worried, still aware that he was in a perilous position.  But showing a strong side to Yami Bakura, showing that confidence that lurked there, too, was his best weapon right now.  “I just need it to last long enough to decimate what remains of your Lifepoints.”

Yami Bakura growled furiously and gestured to two face-down cards.  They flipped over, and he was barely able to restrain a frustrated grunt as his card shattered, taking some of his Lifepoints with it.  The Pharaoh was unable to hold back a laugh.

“Don’t speak so soon, Bakura.  Maybe _you_ should stay quiet as well.  After all, better to keep your mouth shut than to shove your foot in it.”  He raised his hand up and pointed to one of Yami Bakura’s cards.  “Go, my Dark Magician!  Destroy his face-down card!”

Yami Bakura almost screamed as Dream Clown was destroyed, taking almost all of his Lifepoints with it.  The Pharaoh couldn’t help but smirk.

“What you said before is true, Bakura.”  Yugi was cheering loudly in the background.  “It’s amazing how quickly the tables can turn.  Look at our Lifepoints, and look at the field.  Now you have only one monster more than I do, and one of mine is the Dark Magician.  What do you have that can beat that?”

Yami Bakura didn’t say anything; he just glared at the Pharaoh and seethed.  His shoulders moved in time to his breathing.  He didn’t say anything.  He could feel that he was on the edge of a dangerous precipice.  He was near the end of his rope—there wasn’t much hope that he could defeat the Pharaoh when he was in such a weakened state.  And what irritated him more was that the Pharaoh knew it.

The Pharaoh turned to the prone form of Bakura, who was still hanging unconscious by the dark rings of cloud around his wrists and ankles.  A frown settled over his face, and some of the sharp taste of victory turned bitter.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” he said to the unconscious body; Yugi glancing at his friend as well.  “But I promise—I _will_ save you.”  Yugi couldn’t turn from Bakura for a long moment—might this be the last time he would ever see him?  He turned back to the Pharaoh and gave out a frightened cry.  But it was too late.

With a hideous snarl, Yami Bakura had pushed himself off the ground and was sailing towards the Pharaoh already—the Pharaoh barely had time to turn before Yami Bakura was on top of him, his fingers clawing at the chain around the Millennium Puzzle.

“I won’t lose!” he screamed as the Pharaoh struggled to beat him off.  “Not to some foolish, arrogant kingling like you!”  

The two rolled about, fighting each other with all of their might, punching and kicking and beating at each other as hard as they could.  Yugi was still making sounds of horror and dismay, urging the Pharaoh on and reacting to every hit the Pharaoh took as if they had been struck against himself, too, but he was struck fast, and there was nothing he could do but watch the two of them try to kill each other with their bare hands.

Yami Bakura had wrapped his hands around the puzzle and was tugging at the chain, wrenching at the Pharaoh’s neck.  The Pharaoh ground his teeth and tried to pry Yami Bakura’s hands away from the puzzle, while at the same time trying to kick him as hard as he could.  One good hit to the chest or stomach might have been enough to knock him away.  But Yami Bakura seemed oblivious—he was too focused on stealing the Puzzle to feel anything else.

Suddenly the world began to grow hazy and insubstantial, like the Pharaoh was floating in a dream.  He blinked owlishly, but it didn’t help—he was still just as strong, and still in control of his body, but the world felt… surreal.  Too surreal.  Like it wasn’t even real anymore, or at least he wasn’t a part of it anymore.  He could hear Yami Bakura’s manic laughter ringing in his ears like a bell, though it was like someone had covered the bell first.  The Pharaoh abruptly had a sickly feeling of being washed away by a powerful wave and then being pulled back in by the tide.  And it was then that he understood.

Yami Bakura’s Millennium Ring had the power to separate a soul from its vessel, whether that was a person from their body or a monster from its card.  And he was trying to use that power of the Millennium Ring to force the Pharaoh’s spirit out of the Puzzle.

The Pharaoh called upon the power of the Puzzle—to place a soul back in its body—using all of its, and his, power to keep his spirit in the Millennium Item.  Yami Bakura growled in irritation as he realized the Pharaoh had discovered his plan.  Yami Bakura called on all of his power, as well.

The full force of the Egpytian Pharaoh and his Millennium Puzzle warred with the Millennium Ring and the spirit bound within it.

For a moment the world seemed to swim in a clear water of dreams and nightmares, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUEL MONSTERS CONCENTRATION RULES:
> 
> .. Each player puts twenty monster cards face-down in attack position, five cards wide and four cards deep. They are in completely random order, neither you nor your opponent should know where each card is to start with.
> 
> .. Players take turn choosing one of their monsters and then one of their opponent's monsters
> 
> :: If your monster has higher attack than your opponent's, your opponent's life-points take the difference, and their monster is destroyed. Your card is turned face down again.
> 
> :: If your monster has lower attack than your opponent's, your life-points take the difference and your monster is destroyed. Their monster is turned face-down.
> 
> :: If your monster and your opponent's monster have the same attack, both cards are removed from play, and the player who called the match gets to go again.
> 
>  
> 
> .. Each player has 4000 life points
> 
> .. You lose by: running out of cards first --or-- running out of life points first
> 
> .. Flip effects still take effect
> 
> :: since there are no hands, monsters that return cards to an opponent's hand are simply removed from the field
> 
> :: monsters that bring cards back from the "graveyard" can bring a card that has been removed back onto the field; cards that call cards from the deck call monsters from the Field--otherwise the effect is negated
> 
> :: there are no magic or trap cards*
> 
>  
> 
> .. WHEN YOUR TURN STARTS YOU CAN TAKE TWO ACTIONS:
> 
> :: attack your opponent's monster
> 
> :: flip one of your cards over
> 
>  
> 
> .. Once a card is flipped over it must remain face-up for the duration of the game (unless a monster's effect allows you to turn one card face-down) 
> 
> ::this will activate a monster's flip-effect
> 
> :: You can then move it into defense position if you want to
> 
> ..when a card is in defense position your life-points won't take a hit
> 
> .. you must flip a card over to put it into defense position
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *There is actually a more complicated version of this game, but shhh, it’s supposed to be a surprise. ;)


	5. Chapter 4: A Place I'm Not Used To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite it being the shortest chapter, it took me the longest to get around to. I’m sorry! Life came and distracted me. But YYYEEEESSSSS, with this done, there’s one more chapter to finish, then half of one to revamp (yes, I had half of Chapter 6 done before dropping the story! Oops;;) and then I can actually get to new stuff. I’m terribly excited. Why am I such a loser? I hope you enjoy the chapter despite its brevity!

Chapter 4 -_-_- A Place I’m Not Used To

The spirit that called itself Yami Bakura—it was easier than anything else—had a very simple Room of Mind.  It wasn’t that he had a simple mind—just the opposite; his mind was full of plans and schemes that twisted around themselves, and dove through themselves, and intersected in ways that would cause a younger spirit to die, screaming and ripping at the seams as it struggled to comprehend—and failed.  No, Yami Bakura’s Room of Mind wasn’t simple because his mind was simple—it was because he was predominated by one thought, one goal, one ambition, one obsession.

Yami Bakura sat up and put a hand to his head.  He was a metaphorical projection of the thoughts of his incorporeal soul, but that didn’t stop him from having a headache.  Brilliant.

It took him a moment to et himself oriented, but after he had, it was easy enough to tell where he was.  He had spent enough millennia sitting in here, waiting for the reincarnation of his previous, scar-bearing self to come along and give him the energy—and body—he needed to extract himself from unconsciousness and the Millennium Ring’s golden confines.

The Room of his Mind was a dim place, a large, empty chamber whose walls were made of a dark yellow sandstone, etched with the characters he had known from his youth.  The only light in the room came from the scarlet flames that burned atop four tall, thin golden stands at the corner of a single, large platform in the center of the room.  Although the light was enough to reach the walls, it was not enough to illuminate them, and they sat in murky shadows and kept all their secrets, just as Yami Bakura had, for so long, kept his.

Besides for the torches, the only break in the monotonous emptiness of the room was the platform in the center, and what lay upon it.  It was raised only a foot or so above the floor—also blocks of dark yellow sandstone—and only slightly larger than what it held aloft: the Millennium Stone.  Not the real one, of course—the real one was buried under the sand of what had once been Kul Elna.  It was, rather, a perfect mental copy, of a level of perfection that preached of years’ worth of obsessive observation. 

The Millennium Stone was usually mostly empty—it reflected the Millennium Items currently in Yami Bakura’s possession, and for the longest time it had sat empty—too empty—of everything but the Millennium Ring.  Now the Millennium Eye shone from its place in the tablet figure’s forehead, but it still wasn’t enough.  He wanted them _all_ —and especially that Pharaoh’s Puzzle.

It was atop the Millennium Stone that he found himself now, and he propped himself on his elbows and reclined against them, peering around the room.  He scoffed.  He remembered everything, as far as he could tell—fighting the Pharaoh in his Shadow Game, the horrible defeat from the Dark Magician, wrestling with the Pharaoh to steal the Puzzle.  Hmph.  He’d thought he was so damn clever when he tried to part the Pharaoh’s soul from the golden pyramid-on-a-string.   But then that damn Pharaoh had swept in and used his own power to try and put himself back.  He wondered slightly how that fight had ended—he and the Pharaoh had been struggling against each other, and then everything vanished.  And now he awoke here, in the Room of his Mind.  Had the Shadow Realm punished them both for the incursion by casting their souls to the shadows?  Was this what it was like to wither there?  Captured in the room of your own mind, doomed there to eternity?  He would have to admit—that would be pretty damn evil.  He was used to it by now, but still, it would drive most men mad.  He could take some comfort in the fact that he had damned the Pharaoh to the shadows, too, but he was too frustrated that this meant he could no longer achieve his own ends.

He pushed himself up slightly, now leaning on his hands, and gave the room a passing glance.  No… something seemed alive in him.  Or as alive as a 5,000-years-dead spirit could feel.  He wasn’t in the Shadows.  Was he still in his host?  In the Ring?  Did this mean the Shadow Realm had simply annulled the game after Yami Bakura’s transgression?

How merciful of it.

Yami Bakura closed his eyes and felt deep into his connection with his host.  The connection was dull and closed off—his host was so deeply unconscious that Yami Bakura couldn’t even take control of the body.  Dammit.  He pushed himself into a fully sitting position and crossed his arms over his chest.  What a bother.  It’d been a while since he’d been stuck in this chamber—for the last few weeks he’d been piloting Ryou Bakura’s body almost non-stop, working it to a level that his host’s pathetic frame clearly couldn’t handle.  Really, his reincarnation was useless.  _He_ had _never_ been that weak, even in the days of his earliest youth.

The room reflected that youth—walls of ancient sandstone, hieroglyphs of the Ancient Egyptian script scratched into them, the torches that burned around him of the same model used so long ago.  The room was circular, reflecting the shape of the Millennium Ring, which housed his soul.  There was nothing in the room but a single door in the far wall that led to the span between his and his host’s souls, the raised platform in the middle, and the mostly-empty Millennium Stone he had used as both bed and throne for thousands of years.

The stone had had only the Millennium Ring for far too long.

He reached backwards without looking to stroke the polished curve of the Millennium Ring and met only air.

He whirled around in shock.  The Millennium Ring!  It was gone!  His fingers searched frantically in the divot set for it near the middle of the stone idol, but it simply wasn’t there.  He began to grow frantic.  Where was it?!  Where was the Millennium Ring?!  This was his _mind!_ He couldn’t just _lose_ it!  He clasped frantically at his chest, at his neck, looking in his shirt.  But he wasn’t wearing the Ring, either.

It was gone.

His mind was reeling with shock and a sudden sense of emptiness.  No!  It was impossible!  The Ring was his!  It had been his for 5,000 years, it housed his very _soul_!  How could it be… He couldn’t even think of the word.  It made him sick.

He put his hand down, and a stabbing pain suddenly shot up his arm.  He looked down and saw that it had landed near the neck of the idol, below the figure’s face but above the empty curve meant for the Millennium Ring.  He didn’t lift his hand.  The chaos in his mind had suddenly been washed away, swept away by a single thought.  It felt like a… spike.  Like a corner of something was sticking into his palm.  

Very slowly, he lifted his hand and brought it to his side.

A laugh tore its way out of his throat.  And it didn’t stop.

There, glinting almost malevolently in the red light, was the Millennium Puzzle.  It was sitting awkwardly in its space, which was why one of its corners stood up instead of lying flush with the stone.

His mind was empty with shock, empty with ideas and a realization he knew was completely true.  He slipped the projection of the Millennium Puzzle into its slot so it sat correctly, the ever-watching Eye of Horus glaring up at him.  There was no loud bang, or flash of light, or stream of sparks.  It just sat there, existing.

He looked around, and noticed that the room was no longer circular, but multi-sided.  He looked up, and instead of the flat ceiling, he noticed that the four sides of the chamber all tilted upwards, their meeting points left in shadow.

His laugh turned into something very dark.


End file.
